Oh the Weather Outside is Frightful
by Caught Ink Handed
Summary: Natasha and Clint are at a ski resort for a mission! Natasha doesn't mind the cold. Clint really just wants nachos. And the bad guys really just want to get away. One-shot. Very faint Clintasha.


**Oh the Weather Outside is Frightful!**

"I really hate the cold, Tasha." Clint moaned as Natasha pulled open the chalet door. His cheeks were a vivid pink and the tip of his nose was already turning a bit white. Natasha rolled her eyes at her partner's antics as he hopped up and down, trying to warm himself.

"Clint, stop it. You're drawing attention to us," she growled, leading them into the posh room. "There's Vladimir and the diamond theif, Gilroy." She nodded discreetly to a corner table where two well-dressed men were discussing over steaming mugs. A few armed guards stood guard over their meeting. The faint outline of guns could be seen to the well-trained eye, like the two SHIELD agents. "Here, let's go take that table, so we can hear."

"Fine," Clint began to strip off his layers as they walked to the table. Slumping down in the chair opposite his partner, he groaned, his muscles screaming in protest. "Skiing is terrible."

They were currently in Switzerland, tracking a stolen diamonds trade that just happened to take place at a ski lodge. The diamond was said to have special properties, so naturally SHIELD was interested. So far, they had spent all day following their buyer around on skis.

"It's not that bad." Natasha said with a smirk as she slowly unwrapped her scarf. "You're just not very good at it."

Clint rubbed his sore shins through his thick snow pants. "That's because you kept taking me on black diamonds!" He protested, "And now I'm hungry. You have to buy me food." He put on a ridiculous pout that had Natasha rolling her eyes in an instant.

"I'm not wasting my money."

"How is it a waste of money?"

"Have you ever seen ski chalet prices? They're practically robbing you blind."

"But I want nachos, Nat," he whined pitifully. Natasha glanced over to the table they were supposed to be watching.

"Fine, I'll give you money for nachos," Clint reached out eagerly as she pulled out her wallet, "but," his face fell instantly, "you're doing all of the paperwork for this assignment." He paused, weighing the pros and cons, and sighed heavily.

"I'll do it. Do you want anything?" He asked, standing up, money in hand.

"Uh, hot chocolate please."

"With cinnamon?" He grinned at her. She nodded, "Okay. I will be back."

Natasha settled into her seat and pulled out a brochure from the ski area. To the casual observer, Natasha was learning about the area's ski school. But in actuality, she was carefully listening to the conversation behind her. She calmly slipped a hand into her jacket and started a recording device.

The two men argued quietly in Ukrainian over the price of diamonds. Natasha smiled to herself as the dealer switched into an angry string of Russian curses. The buyer abruptly stood and switched to English, "I will not be insulted." he declared in broken English. "Come back tomorrow. Meet me at the Schneemann Lift. We will finish this."

"Tak, ya budu tam." The dealer said, irritation seeping into his voice. The buyer stormed away with a few dark suited men following him. Natasha's eyes flitted up momentarily before returning back to the brochure.

"Excuse me, Miss, are you alone?" She looked up to the arms dealer smiling down at her.

"Yes, I am." She smiled back at him coyly, "And you are?" She allowed a heavy Russian accent to drip into her voice.

"I am Gilroy. And may I ask your name?"

"Anya. And please sit down." She waved a hand towards the chair Clint had previously been occupying. Gilroy quickly sat down across from her and waved for a waitress to bring him another drink. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha could see Clint come out of the cafeteria, nachos in hand. She shook her head ever so slightly and he nodded, finding another table close by.

"May I ask, are you Russian?"

Natasha let out a girlish giggle, "Yes, I am. How could you tell?"

"Your accent was rather obvious," He sent her a what he would think flirty smile. "So, what brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm here with my fiancé. He's somewhere around here. He's an American and not used to the cold." Gilroy's face fell a bit at her words.

"Yes, Americans," They shared a laugh. "They talk so big, and yet can not take the smallest discomforts." His phone rang loudly and he dug it out, shooting an apologetic glance her way. "Bereiten Sie meinem Konto. Ich glaube, Vladimir wird meine nächste Angebot viel mehr akzeptabel finden. Ich will diese Raketen innerhalb der zwei Wochen verschwunden." Natasha smiled at him, a vacant expression on her face. "Sorry about that, I just have some business to attend to. Perhaps I will see you again sometime, Anya. It's been a pleasure, milaya."

"Yes, perhaps," Natasha suppressed a smirk, knowing that she would in fact be seeing him again; it was her job.

Gilroy and his guards left her and Clint returned, still slowly eating his nachos. "He say anything?"

"He is prepared to sell his missiles tomorrow. We need to stop that sale." Natasha explained, stealing one of Clint's nachos. "How do you like these so much? They're tortilla chips covered in fake cheese."

"They're amazing! The food of the gods!" Clint said cheerfully. "Thor likes them," he added defensively at Natasha's raised eyebrows.

"Whatever you say,"

Clint pouted a bit before saying, "So…did Gilroy know that you could understand him? I overheard him speaking in German."

"Oh god no, he thinks I'm some ditzy Russian engaged to an American. He purposely switched to German so I wouldn't understand. Idiot. He would never guess," she laughed lightly. Clint leaned back, silently eating his food. "Did you get my hot chocolate?" Clint's face paled a bit. "Go get it."

O-o-O-o-O

The next day came with strong winds and thick flakes of snow. Clint looked out the window, a sour expression on his face. "Are you sure they meant the chair lift and not the chalet?"

Natasha looked up from buckling her boots, "I'm positive, Clint, now get your goggles. We need to go and make sure we're there before they are." Clint reluctantly pulled his goggles over his hat.

"I don't like this, Nat."

"You just don't like it because you can't have your bow," She said wisely while pulling on her hat over her telltale red curls.

"Yeah, well, you get your guns."

"Clint, where would you put it?" She asked exasperatedly. Clint shrugged his shoulders, "Exactly. Now you have a gun as well, and you do know how to use it."

"I don't like this at all. It seems strange that they would conduct business on skis."

"It's actually brilliant. Very little interference." Natasha explained, opening the door to the mountain. Clint nodded and yanked up his neck gator to protect his face from the wind. Natasha followed him out, holding a map. "Okay, we need to take that lift up and then ski down to the other lift where the meeting is." She outlined their route with a gloved finger.

"Sounds good. Now, where are our skis?"

The pair clicked on their skis and strapped on their poles. Natasha looked just as natural as any Olympic skier, but Clint looked uncomfortable and unnatural on the skis. Natasha smoothly skated towards the lift, her motions unbroken and graceful. Clint, on the other hand, was using his poles and brute strength to get to the lift. Clint came up behind his partner, panting hard, and leaned over his poles. "I really hate skiing."

"Mhhm. Suck it up, Barton." She guided him over to the chair lift. They slowly moved up in the line until a tired looking man waved them forward. Clint nearly fell on the sticky snow, but steadying himself.

The chair swung up behind them fast. Natasha smoothly sat down, Clint less gracefully. "Ow! It deadlegged me!"

Once they were settled on the chair, Natasha slid her poles under her leg and turned to Clint, "It deadlegged you?"

"Yeah," Clint put on his best puppy dogface as he rubbed the back of his legs. Natasha pulled a handgun out from the inside of her jacket and went through her standard checks. "What are you doing, Nat?"

"Checking my gun,"

"You did that already."

"I know, but I don't want it affected by the cold." Clint rolled his eyes, but remained quiet.

A few minutes later the chair reached the top of the run and the pair slid off. Natasha led the way to the next run. She moved her goggles over her eyes and grinned at her bumbling partner. Natasha took off, carving beautiful arcs in the snow. Clint followed, trying to stay upright. A few teenagers bombed passed him, nearly knocking him over. Clint yelled after them, but his voice was carried away by the wind. He made his way down carefully, and much slower than his partner who was leaning on her poles at the bottom, waiting for him impatiently.

"Took you long enough." She commented as they skated to the next lift. "There they are," Natasha pointed subtly to a group of men near the lift lines.

"We need to get closer," Clint said, and began moving towards them. They moved in casually behind them in line. "Do you have the listening device?"

"Yes, here." Natasha slipped it into his hand. With little effort, Clint 'accidently' fell forward on his skis and crashed into Vladimir.

"You idiot!" He yelled, and his guards moved forward.

"I am so sorry." Clint began, "Here, let me give you a hand." He grabbed the man around the waist and began to pull him up. Vladimir pushed Clint away quickly.

"Get off of me. I'm fine." Clint reached out again and Vladimir ordered loudly, "I said I'm fine."

"Sorry, my friend. It was an accident." Clint apologized as he slid back.

"Americans," Gilroy chuckled lightly to the side.

The businessmen got on the chair, with guards on the chairs in front and behind them. Natasha and Clint boarded the chair two behind their mark.

"Wonder what they're talking about," Clint said absentmindedly as he watched the chair in front of them.

"Diamonds, money," Natasha replied while also listening to the bug in Vladimir's coat pocket.

"No, not them. Their hired help. Maybe they compare best methods of execution, or favorite calibers. Or, I know, favorite torture methods!"

"I'll be thinking of my favorites if you don't shut it,"

"What was that, Nat?"

"Hawkboy, a little focus would be nice." She snapped, her eyes glued forward.

"Fine," he grumbled, flexing his fingers within his gloves.

They reached the top of the mountain and dismounted the chair. They trailed after the men as they wound across a catwalk. The men stopped near a small grove of trees, their bodyguards making a small circle around them. Natasha stopped about 10 feet away from them and bent down to fiddle with the buckles of her boots.

"14 million and that is the lowest I'll go, Vladimir." Gilroy said stiffly. Vladimir paused for a moment before nodding ever so slightly.

"Very well," he said through his heavy accent. "I will call my banker now give me the account number."

Gilroy rattled off a long number while Vladimir recited it to his banker. Gilroy lifted his phone and checked his bank statement. "Yes, 14 million, thank you. Rickard, bring the jewel." A guard stepped forward and pulled out a small box. Gilroy opened it and showed it to Vladimir.

"Damn," Clint muttered to Natasha. "That's a big rock."

"14 millions worth of it," she added, standing up. The guards were starting to shoot anxious glances towards them. "Ready?"

"Ready." Clint nodded quickly.

"Gilroy! Is that you?" Natasha slid easily into her Russian accent and moved towards the men.

"Anya! Hello," Gilroy greeted charmingly.

"How funny that we would run into each other again!"

"Well it is a small mountain," Gilroy guffawed at his own joke, as did his men. Vladimir's face went sour as Natasha approached.

"Yes, it is," Natasha giggled, grabbing Clint's arm and pulling him towards her and nearly making him fall. "This is my fiancé, Kyle," Gilroy shook Clint's hand with a look of distaste.

"Who is this, Gilroy?" Vladimir asked.

"Anya and her fiancé, Kyle."

"Anya?" Vladimir questioned, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. His eyes raked up and down Natasha's body and he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, why?" Gilroy turned to Vladimir, his head tilted in a question.

"I think I know her…" Within the moment, Natasha had two guns out and Clint one. In an instant, 4 of the guards were down.

"Wha-?" Gilroy managed before his chest was filled with a bullet from each gun. His body slumped to the ground, skis sticking straight up and down.

"It is the Black Widow!"

"Well now you really got to kill 'em, Nat," Clint commented as he pistol-whipped a guard. Vladimir tucked the box into his jacket. He pushed off the edge and was off the hill. The lone guards followed after them. Natasha shot the last guard and reloaded her guns before taking off after them. Clint followed after, wondering how his partner was skiing and shooting at the same time.

They wound down the mountain, trading shots randomly. A wall of ice turned them sharply and Vladimir was forced to slow down. That was all the time they needed. Natasha fired carefully and hit him squarely in the back of the head. He crumpled and smashed into the ice wall. Clint aimed for the other three guards but missed two of them. Natasha slowed and ripped through Vladimir's coat, grabbing the box.

"Nat!" Clint yelled, firing another two shots towards the guards. "C'mon, we've got a copter at the bottom of this run!" They pushed off and sped down the slope. Clint pointed his skis down the hill and prayed to all the gods that he wouldn't crash and die. Natasha wound her way down at top speed.

They skidded to a stop in front of the helicopter and popped their bindings. They dived into the helicopter as the guards sprayed their machine guns. Another agent helped them up and they collapsed onto the seats.

Natasha pulled out the box and passed it off.

Clint held up two fingers, "One, we are never doing any ski related missions again. Two, you owe me more nachos."

* * *

**My first official foray into the Avengers fandom. My prompt from my lovely friend Maddy was: Clintasha, skiing, and nachos. *Please go follow her on tumblr: lokisflyingmonkey* Hope you all enjoyed! It was a little farfetched, but that's okay, right? Sorry if the skiing was a bit wacky! I'm a ski racer and don't always remember that not everyone is! **

**Please drop a note! **

**CIH**


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